"Pancakes?" Jin's head popped out from the coachman's box. "Did someone say pancakes? Because I am starving, and a nice blueberry stack sounds much better than 'Soul-Cleansing' and 'Sulfur' for breakfast."
"Focus, Jin! No pancakes!" I screamed over the roar of the volcano.
God, why are we like this?
Hector began to chant. It wasn't a noble, booming incantation; it sounded like he was reciting a recipe for a very complex latte.
The Uber-Heartstone began to glow, shifting from a dull grey to a blinding, iridescent gold. The Altar hummed in response, the white light intensifying until it started to smell like ozone and—wait.
Sniff. Sniff.
"Hector..." I whispered, my eyes widening. "Why does the volcano smell like Roasted Arabica?"
